Hermione Snape
by Phx-Songbird
Summary: Hermione has a baby. Guess who's the daddy? Contains character death. No happy endings here. AU.


**A/N: **Okay, so I was bored. I know I should be working my WIP "Waking the Dead", but I've been stuck. What else can I say. I've been depressed lately and I wrote this just to prove to myself that I still could. This was not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Feel free to point them out. Just don't flame me.

**Disclaimer: **Not mine... blah blah J.K. Rowling... whatever... making no money from this.

I look at my daughter lying in her crib. She's so beautiful, she amazes me. I can hardly believe that she is mine. I stare at her honey colored eyes, so similar to my own. It is the only feature that she possesses that would make anyone truly believe that she is mine. In every other aspect she is truly her father's daughter. Dark hair, pale skin, and the longest limbs I have ever known a two week old baby to have.

It was never my intention to let her father know of her existence. I planed to raise her on my own. I knew that I could do it. If any witch could be a single mom, I could. Of course this is not common practice in the wizarding world as it is in the muggle world, but things change, and who better to lead the reform than me. My plans couldn't have been better.

Naturally my parents were upset when they found out about the pregnancy, and even more so when I refused to reveal the identity of the father. However, they were and still are very supportive of me. Ron broke off our engagement, it was to be expected. I was carrying a child that could not possibly been his, since we had never slept together. Harry shunned me because of Ron. The entire Weasley family stopped speaking to me. It was a big blow, but I took my stand. They were not going to shake me.

A few months into my pregnancy Ron came to see. His family did not know about the visit. He was concerned about me, and he confessed that he still loved me and wanted to marry me. I was so touched by his offer, but I had to refuse. You see, it came with the condition that I reveal the name of my baby's father. That was something that I was unwilling to do. That is until now.

My baby was born two weeks ago. I have been feeling extremely fatigued. I thought that it was normal, but I had to ask someone who would know for certain. So bundled up my baby and went to see Mrs. Weasley. She would not remain angry at me once she saw this precious little angel, so I thought, and I was right. When I walked into the house she immediately took the baby from me, and ushered me onto the couch. With a wave of her wand, a tea service floated into the room. She began to comment that I looked to pale and that I should see a healer. I never even got to ask her if the way I was feeling was normal. Now that I am a mother I understand that you would know instinctively when one of your little ones needs help. Up until very recently I was part of this family, and after today I knew that I was once again a part of the fold.

As soon as I left the Burrow, I went to straight to St. Mungo's. I should have left the baby with Molly or dropped her of at Mom and Dad's, but something inside of me told me was telling me not to hesitate. The healer in charge of my case, Ambrosius Renard, waved his wand over my body. He paused, occasionally nodding, or jotting things down. The baby slept peacefully in the basket I conjured when we arrived while all this took place. I was so grateful for her temperament. I guess I had to thank her father for that, Mom and Dad said I wailed like a banshee.

When Healer Renard was done with his examination he stepped out of the room allowing me to dress. He came back into the room accompanied by another healer. They both had grim faces. I began to panic silently. Renard explained that he had to seek a second opinion to verify his findings, but it seemed that my pregnancy had triggered something in the curse scar I had received in my fifth year at Hogwarts, courtesy of Dolohov. The curse was slowly draining my magical core along with my life force. I was told that I would have six, or perhaps eight months left to live. There was no known cure.

Now that my time is limited I have to let the baby's father know. I had been debating it since she was born but now there was know choice. I invited Ron and Harry over for lunch, since I did not have the energy to go out. I had to reconcile with my best friends before it was too late. The three of us cried together, and laughed together well into the night. When I revealed the truth about my baby's father Harry volunteered to adopt her after I was gone. I appreciated his gesture, but her father would need to know who she was. He had to have an option, even if he chose to reject his own flesh and blood. My parents were the next to know about my illness. They too offered to adopt and raise the child as their own, but I had already made up my mind. She was going to be raised by her father. She deserved to have her natural father, since she was going to loose me before she could even form memories about me.

A week passed before I could drum up the courage to go see him, but here I was once again at the gates of the place that I had called home for so long. The very gates of the school seemed to recognize who I was and what my purpose was since they immediately opened up for me. I walked up the path to the main entrance, but once I got there I was unsure of where to go. I stood at the main entrance briefly when I heard his voice asking me if I needed any help. Since I had him before me I quickly mentioned that it was he I had come to see, and had been unsure of where to look. He did not speak another word. He just motioned me to follow him. I followed him down the corridor that lead to the dungeons, and then into his office. He never once inquired about the bundle of blankets I was carrying. I was almost beginning to regret my decision.

The tension that had been building inside since I had been given my death sentence, spilled out of me the minute I sat in the chair he offered. He listened to everything I had to say. His face was a mask revealing no emotion. That changed as soon as I was done talking. He was furious at me for not letting him that I was pregnant, and even more so for coming to him only because I was dying. He didn't yell at since I was holding the baby, but he used that low voice that was much more scary than a raised voice would ever be. He took the baby from my arms and held her. I instantly recognized that look on his face. It was the look of awe and wonder that I would have whenever I would just watch her sleep. I wonder how I ever doubted him.

oOo

It's the baby's first birthday today. Her mother has been gone for six months now. It amazed how she had not given her a name for three whole weeks after she was born. The silly woman had wanted me to have a say in what her name should be. It only seemed right that she would be called Hermione, after that bright, and beautiful witch that gave her life. I stand here at her grave, and think how unfair life is. It is not her that I pity, nor the child. I know that she has found peace behind the veil, and the child will lack nothing. It is myself that I pity, because I will never if I could have loved that young, vibrant witch, who should have had all the world falling at her feet but chose to care for me instead.

You see, our child was conceived shortly after the end of the war. She should have been celebrating with her friends but chose to stay behind and help tend to my injuries. I was not as gravely injured as she believed. I rather enjoyed her company, though I was loath to admit it to anyone, so I did not protest to much when she insisted on staying with me. Several days later, when my injuries were fully healed I insisted that we celebrate the joyous occasion by getting blissfully drunk. As this case well proves, the best decision making does not occur under the influence of alcoholic beverages. We woke up the morning next each other feeling rather awkward. Neither one spoke to other. She dressed quickly and left. I did not see her again until she came to the castle to tell me about the baby. Had the events of that night never taken place Hermione would be alive today. Probably married to Potter or Weasley, and the guilt of her eventual death would have been theirs to carry and not mine.

Tell me what you think.


End file.
